“We believe you,” Amity said, then glared at her husband.
“Of course,” the duke said. “But Jeffcoat has old wounds, and they are opened every time he looks at his father.” He sighed, absently picking up a cup of chocolate from which Amity had been drinking and downing it in two gulps. Then he looked at it, surprised, and licked his lips before gazing fondly at the mother of his newborn.
“Will you tell me about his wounds?” Charlotte asked, wishing she could hear the story from her fiancé’s own lips, but if it would cause him more pain, then all the better it should come from the duke instead.
Henry frowned. “It’s not a long story, but it is an ugly one that Jeffcoat perhaps wished to spare you.”
“Whatever you are willing to tell me,” Charlotte said, “I would appreciate. It is unfair for Charles and I to lose everything over someone else’s wrongdoing.”
“Agreed,” the duke said. “The bare bones of it is his mother was unfaithful to his father, and when she eventually moved out and went abroad, she left so much damage in her wake, including a distraught husband and a scarred boy. Neither of them ever heard from her again.”
Charlotte tried to imagine a young Charles with those cornflower blue eyes.How could a mother leave him?
Tears started to trickle down her cheeks again. “Is she still alive, do you know?”
The duke shrugged. “I don’t know. But if you think somehow, after all this time, there could be a happy reunion, please don’t give that a second thought. That countess needs to stay in the past.”
She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. The duke was probably correct. What she needed to focus on was convincing the man she loved that she was not like his mother.
“Does he not trust any women?”
The duke shrugged. “I feel a little disloyal discussing this further with you.”
“Discussing what further?” came a voice from the doorway.
Charlotte recognized Lord Waverly from previous gatherings. A little mortified to be caught with her tears barely dry, she rose to her feet, having decided to make a hasty escape. With a quick nod in his direction, head down and her face practically hidden behind the damp handkerchief, she wandered toward the other door that led out of the spacious drawing room and into a smaller parlor.
“If it’s about Jeffcoat,” Lord Waverly called after her, “I’ve just seen him.”
Charlotte spun about and faced him. “Where?”
“At our club,” he said, his tone measured. “He is halfway to being Lord Lushington already.”
“Lord Lushington?” Amity asked.
“To put it plainly, Duchess, our friend cannot see a hole in a ladder.”
“That isn’t plain speaking at all,” the duke admonished him. “Nor is it kind.”
“I tried to get him to come with me to see you — not knowing she would be here,” he explained, looking at Charlotte with nearly as chilly a gaze as Charles’s. “But our friend is determined to be full up to the knocker by bedtime.”
“If all your babbling words mean Charles is becoming inebriated, then you should have stayed with him.” Charlotte hadn’t meant her words to come out so harshly, but of all the three friends, Lord Waverly had always seemed the most devil-may-care. He was also known, at least in the gossip columns, as a womanizer, which to her way of thinking was a reprehensible trait.
He blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “Miss Rare-Foure, I am not Jeffcoat’s nanny. What’s more, after he told me a sad story of treachery,” Lord Waverly added, seeming to weigh each word, “he needed some time alone. I think on top of it all, he felt slightly humiliated to have fallen at the hands of a shopkeeper’s daughter.”
“Waverly!” the duke scolded him. “I will ask you to hold your tongue. Recall my wife, please, is that same shopkeeper’s daughter, and you are in her home.”
Lord Waverly had the grace to look shamefaced at the duchess. “My apologies, Your Grace.”
As expected, Amity was all graciousness and light. “That’s quite all right. I know you are speaking out of great friendship for Lord Jeffcoat. But you must understand that this terribly sad and treacherous story you mentioned has befallen my sister, as well. And you must also know, if you don’t already, my sister is very much in love with your friend.”
“Is she?” he demanded, not ready to let go of someone to blame, or so it seemed to Charlotte.
“I can answer for myself,” she said. “I love Charles with all my heart. I was tricked into meeting an old ... acquaintance. He has fallen on difficult times and thought he could use my engagement as a windfall. I had just disabused him of such a notion when Charles showed up.”
Lord Waverly lifted his head, looking down his nose at her, one eyebrow raising and then the other. She knew it for an imperious stare, often given by the nobility she’d encountered. She didn’t let it bother her one bit but stared right back at him. After a few seconds, the man lowered his chin and openly considered her.
“You truly love Jeffcoat?”
